Why Am I Tortured?

I’m bored. Yes, I said bored. Once again, I’m up late and thinking to myself that life is passing by and I forgot to hop on the train. I think I spend more time dreaming of action, adventure, romance, and drama than I spend doing something about it. Maybe I just feel like I need to have these qualities every second of the day. I want to continue shooting short films. Why haven’t I picked up the camera? I want to get back into shape. Why haven’t I hit the gym? I want to find my true love. Why haven’t I been on a real date in…a very long time? These are the things that run through my mind constantly. I seriously think my brain will be my demise.

I’m a tortured artist without vitality.
Color has lost its hue, it’s only darkness.
I’m a fallen angel without a paradise.
Eden has lost its innocence and beauty.
I exist only through blank pages of an empty void consumed only by meaningless matter.

Okay, there’s a little bit of my dark tortured soul. Now that I got that out of my system…
Oh, I cooked up another skin. It’s one of Sophia Bush from One Tree Hill.

As for the rest of my life, well, it’s back to work tomorrow with the same old monotonous crap that completely devours every last bit of me and leaves only emptiness.

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